Steve Rogers One Shots

Birthday

"Steve!"

You scream and jump onto the bed, bouncing up and down a few times before coming to a stop.  Steve jolts up and pins you to the bed, your wrists next to your head and your legs pressed into the mattress.  His furrowed eyebrows relax when he sees that it's just you.

"Don't scare me like that ever again."  He sits back and pulls you upright, his fingers running through his hair.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist.  It's your birthday, after all."  You beam at him brightly and pull out your phone, on which the lock screen reads, 8:34 am, July 4, Independence Day.

"Oh yeah!  It is."  He grins and pulls you to his chest, his nose pressing against your scalp.

"Happy Birthday, Captain."

"Thank you, miss."  He swings his legs off of the bed and leans forward, his hand reaching up to rub his eyes.  "So what's the plan for today?"

"Well, Tony's bound to tease you about your old age, and I heard he's ordering 97 birthday cakes."  You giggle and stand up, slapping your wet hair away from your face.  You had already showered and dressed, planning to get Steve ready for the big day.

"Of course he would.  No surprise there."  He yawns and walks into the bathroom, splashing his face with water and slicking his hair back with his wet hands.

"I was thinking we could go out for lunch, since Nat's planning on taking us to a club tonight."

"Who goes out to clubs in their 90's?"  He muses, talking around his toothbrush and spraying white foam on to the bathroom mirror.

"You do," you smile, rearranging his sheets for him.  The disarray they were in was really annoying you.

"By the way, lunch sounds great."  He grabs you from behind and spins you around, setting you down so you can gain your footing.

"Good.  Now get dressed while I go see what everyone else is up to."  You turn in his arms to place a quick peck on his lips before pulling away, only to be dragged back.  "Steve, I'm really hungry, come on!"

You laugh and struggle against his chest, but he just chuckles and holds you tighter.  "Wait, let me savor this."  

So you relax against him and breathe in his scent, vintage cologne filling your nose.  His hands lay flat against your back and his thumbs rub soothing circles into your skin.  You feel hot air along the top of your forehead, his lips pressed against the space between your eyes.  Your arms are draped around his waist, your hands hanging loosely on his lower back.  "How's this for a moment to savor?"

"Perfect," he murmurs, pulling away to press his mouth against yours, his lips soft and warm.  You hold your face up, drinking in the heat of the kiss before pulling away and pecking him on the nose.

"I'll see you at breakfast."  You give him a little smile before moving away, his back turning to you to rummage in his closet for something to wear.  "Pull on that blue button up with the khakis.  You look really hot in it," you yell, snatching a glimpse of Steve's playful smirk before the doors close.

When you ride up to the dining area, the air is sharp with black coffee and the burning of who-knows-what.  Thor is standing at the stove scratching his head while Clint has his dropped into his hands.

"No, you gotta watch the pancakes the whole time!  You'll burn them if you don't," Clint grumbles, straightening his Kiss the Cook apron.

"I'm sorry, dear hawk-man.  I don't understand why they are so easy to ruin."   

"You guys need any help?"  You smile at the mess they've gotten themselves into and dump the burned bread into a garbage can.